


The Magnus Mall

by mothmeal



Series: The Magnus Mall [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Background Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Canon Asexual Character, Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Elias is a bastard, F/F, Gerry is a ghost, M/M, Magic tea, asexual author, fuck canon me and my homies hate canon, how should i know how tea works im not fuckin bri’ish, jonmartin, kind of a coffee shop au, the magnus archives - Freeform, theres like spooky magic in this mall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25518139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothmeal/pseuds/mothmeal
Summary: When Jon accidentally wanders into the The Wayward Tea Shop, a message on the box he receives leads to someone he’d never expected to be so intrigued by. Together, the explore the strange, wacky, and sometimes even...spooky world of the Magnus Mall, determined to figure out every last mystery, nook, and cranny in the place. Talk to ghosts, pet the dog that just lives???? in the mall????, or grab a cup of coffee from Biin, Tim and Sasha’s coffee shop. It’s gonna be a hell of a ride - Welcome to...The Magnus Mall.Look for updates every Thursday on the weirdest mall around.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Slight Tim Stoker/Michael (Distortion)
Series: The Magnus Mall [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879114
Comments: 56
Kudos: 63





	1. Piano Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to stokedforstoker on tumblr, your love of this idea helped me write and post this!! Comments and kudos are much appreciated, and find me on my tumblr, crazylittlethingcalledspite

Sasha was choking, the coffee rushing blocking her throat as tears streamed down her face. Her grin almost split her face in two as she finally managed to cough out a “Eliass Buttchard” before dissolving into laughter again. Tim beamed, he didn’t normally make her laugh, certainly never to the point of her actually rolling on the floor, and looked at Martin, who’s entire face was bright red and shook with laughter. “You’re such a child, Sasha.” 

“Eliass Buttchard” was the whispered reply. 

“You know, that floor is probably really grimy. I think I spilled a frappe there yesterday.” She stopped laughing. 

“Please tell me you cleaned it up.” 

“Mayhaps.” When she tried to sit up, her shirt stuck to the floor, and yanked her back down. Gingerly, she started to sit up again, and unstuck the shirt as she went. She stood and turned to Tim. “I thought I told you to mop that up.”

“Well, sometimes it’s hard to remember, besides I was deep in thought for Elias’ new name after he chewed me out for wearing booty shorts to work.”

“You must admit, it wasn’t very professional.” 

“Professional be damned, it’s our coffee shop Sasha. Maybe he just liked what he saw.” 

“Please stop.” 

“Just saying, I got voted ‘most likely to have hella cake’ in college.” Tim wiggled his eyebrows, and sat on the counter. He turned, and was about to ask Martin why he looked so shook when he heard...music? and rotated fully, ignoring Sasha, who was bemoaning the health standards. When he saw what Martin was gaping at, his jaw dropped too. About 20 feet from the shop, someone was killing it on the piano, sitting there, completely relaxed as the entertainer fell from his fingers. It was hypnotizing, watching them skip across the keys. What was more interesting was the fact that someone was playing the piano, which Tim would swear up and down had not been there a second ago. Tim drew his eyes away, and smirked at Martin. “Know him?” 

“No,” he said dreamily. “But I want to.” 

“I could…” 

“NO.” 

“Ok, damn no need to get so mean. I was just trying to set up my best buddy Marto.” Sasha smacked him.

“Get down from the counter you fool, I suspect Eliass is here to settle his beef with the name.” And then he was there, the man of the hour. He looked like a dusty crusty vampire, and all said and done he was the scourge of their odd little section of the mall. His slicked back hair glistened in the warm glow of the shop lights. Bastard. Everyone hated him, even the owners of the shops in the main part of the mall because he was that annoying. 

“Hello Elias,” said Sasha, a glint of mirth in her eye. Tim didn’t bother to point out that she dragged the ‘s’ just a little too long. Elias grimaced, and held up the papers he had brought with him. 

“Mind telling me how a second ‘s’ found it’s way into my name?”

“Listen, I’m so sorry Mr. Elias sir, I promise it won’t happen again.” Sasha mumbled something to herself, but went to the back.

“Fine. Don’t let it happen again though, I’ll be watching.” He tapped his temple, and then looked directly at the camera in the corner. 

“Stop sitting on the counters, that violates the health code.” Sasha emerged from the back, her face red. 

“Told you. Wonder if he cracks down on the poor bastards at mcdonalds that hard?” 

“Knowing him, he probably just likes to sit in his office and spy on us. Having cctv all over the place can’t possibly as legal as he makes it out to be.” 

“And what, exactly, are you going to do about it?” 

“Nothing, because we clawed and grasped for this shop.” 

“Good boy.” Sasha condescendingly patted him on the head and then got to work as the evening-ish rush of people came through the doors. Tim spared a glance out of the window, and the piano was gone. Perhaps the dark academia piano player was just another “shared hallucination” from the “claustrophobia” of the smaller section of the mall. “Hey, Sash, uh...the piano is gone.”

“Sure it is, Tim.” 

“Whatever.”

Jon grumbled as he walked out of the bookstore. Not only had someone reorganized random books overnight, Melanie and Georgie were both annoyingly sweet and had been getting on his nerves all day as he combed through each section of the damn shop for the 1-2 books that were out of place. To make matters worse, that same someone had knocked down the twilight poster. For the third time this week. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree, per se, but it was super hard to keep putting it back up. Of course it was too high up to just stick it back on, so he had to trudge behind the counter, grab the stepladder, walk all the way back and put it back up. He had asked Melanie if they could put it somewhere else, or even just not have it up.

“Seriously, it’s not even a good book. Hell, I’ve read better fanfics th-never mind.” 

“What was that, Jon?” 

“Nothing. I’ll go and put the poster back.” And so he did, he put the books in their right places, and fielded questions about the odd noises, and ignored the fact that sometimes doors were still open when he knew that he had closed them. So after putting the stepladder away (again), he wandered out of the shop. It was his lunch break, but he wasn’t really feeling hungry, and although he had been at the shop for almost a month now, he hadn’t tried out the coffee shop directly across from it. In fact, he was so embroiled in his thoughts that he walked directly into the...piano? That’s odd. He would have sworn that there wasn’t a piano there earlier that morning. But hey, you know the saying, never look a gift piano in the mouth.

He had taken lessons at his grandmother’s insistence in his childhood, intending to quit but never really stopping. There was something so reassuring about being able to sit down at an instrument and knowing that he could play a piece perfectly. An island in a sea of calm, he supposed. One thing that he didn’t need to worry about. So he pulled out the bench, and played. He felt his shoulders untense as he pressed the keys, and it felt almost exactly like the one in his childhood home. So much, that he swore he could hear his old piano teacher’s voice in his head as he played. When he pulled his fingers off the keys and opened his eyes, he almost expected to see the flowered wallpaper of the den. He didn’t notice the people looking at him through the glass front of the coffee shop.

As he returned to the bookshop, still attempting to collect his thoughts, he realized that there was a door. The book shop certainly didn’t have a door, so why in the world was there one? Looking up, glowing neon letters covered the faded bank sign, spelling out “The Wayward Tea Shop.” He’d never seen any signs of construction, but hell, if they could get a whole piano in without him noticing they could probably sneak an entire shop past him...right? He took one last glance behind him, grasped the knob, and entered.

The inside was so simultaneously bright and dark it hurt. The neon (was that bowling alley?) carpet seemed to swirl and Jon clutched at one of the nearby shelves for support. He was greeted with a jarring voice, which he assumed was further into the shop, but couldn’t figure out the exact location. It seemed to echo and distort, coming from every direction at once. His head swam, but as he walked further it quieted, and he found himself walking through a dizzying maze of shelves, until he reached a counter. Behind it, a man with long, curly hair idly played paddle ball but jumped up with a start and dropped it when Jon walked up to the counter. 

“Hello there,” he said brightly. If Jon noticed that it maybe had a tad too many teeth, he didn’t mention it. 

“Um-hi. Store popped up rather quickly, eh?” 

“Oh, I’ll be gone just as quick. What can I do you for, sir?” His grin really unsettled Jon now, but he vowed to ignore it. 

“Tea, I suppose? I was just intrigued.” 

“Right-o. Hmm, Jon, Jon. Sims, you said?” 

“Um, yes, I suppose-wait. How do you know my name?” 

“Your vibes.” 

“My...what?” 

“Your vibes, dude.” 

“Alright, I’m done, I’m out, adios.” 

“But wait, what’s about your tea?” 

“I DIDN’T BUY ANY TEA.” 

“No, you didn’t, but here it is anyways. It even has your name on it, Jonny boy. Would you like a bag?” 

“Sure, fine.” Oh well, free tea, he supposed. As long as he was able to find the way out.

Eventually, he did, and the fluorescents hurt his eyes in a different sort of way. Kind of like stepping out of a movie theater into daylight, a different kind of bright. The piano wasn't there anymore, but he was even more dazed than when he had walked into the shop behind him, so he simply ignored it. As he walked into the bookshop, the bloody twilight poster hit the floor. Again. Leaving his bag on the counter, he ducked behind to grab the ladder (again) but was stopped by Georgie. 

“Where the hell were you?” 

“What do you mean? I’ve been gone 20 minutes.” 

“Jon, it’s been 2 hours. I was worried sick.” 

“Well, I played the piano out there, and then I went into the tea shop. Not the one across the way, this one sells just the leaves and stuff. Right beside us,” he explained hurriedly. 

“Piano?” He gestured behind him. 

“You know, in the plaza.” 

“Jon, there isn’t a piano out there.” 

“Yes there-“ he turned. 

“Wait, what? I saw it, I played music.” He stopped. “Well, at very least I can show you the shop. Very bright.” So very bright, his thoughts still felt a little muddled.

He pulled Georgie out of the bookshop, almost dragging her, only to stop, shocked, in front of the place where he knew the tea shop had been. The barred glass windows taunted him, and the absence of a yellow door was not in his favor. 

“I know it was there...I-’’ 

“-you need to go home. Seeing things that aren’t there can’t be good. Perhaps some rest will help. I’m sure Melanie and I can take turns rehanging the twilight poster without you here.” Jon sputtered in protest, but his words fell on deaf ears as she hustled him out of the shop and told him what would happen if he tried to come back in no uncertain terms. 

When he got back to his flat, he carried in the bag. Inside was a plain cardboard box, with a simple, written label that had his name on it. Underneath, there was a message that read: “Not for use at home, how about you try the coffee shop across the way. Someone there makes very good tea ;).”


	2. The Pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, thank you so much for the rather large (at least for me) amounts of positive feedback. Do be warned, my executive dysfunction has a mind of it’s own, so updates often won’t come out this quickly...This chapter ran a lot longer than I expected it would, so I hope you enjoy! Comments and kudos are much appreciated, and find me at my tumblr, crazylittlethingcalledspite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Elias falls into a pond, Gerry roasts Jon, and Martin...Martin makes tea.
> 
> Anything that Gerry types will be written in {these brackets}

Jon nearly fell into the pond. He didn’t notice how the ground had turned slick until his foot hit the surface of the water. Trying not to fall in, he jolted backwards, landing on his ass, and stared in disbelief as several large frogs jumped into the water. As the ripples settled, he returned to a standing position, gaping at the pond that was certainly not there yesterday. He knew that it was not there yesterday, and they certainly hadn’t had time to put it in overnight. 

Eventually, after taking some pictures to prove that he wasn’t just hallucinating, he went to the bookshop and prepared to re-hang the twilight poster. Instead, he found Georgie and Melanie, sitting in front of the poster with an ouija board. 

“What in the world are you doing?”

“Talking with the ghost!”, Melanie brightly replied.

“The...ghost?”

“Yes, you know. The one that hates twilight.” 

“Listen, it’s probably just some sort of funky magnet thing. There’s no way it’s a…ghost.” His voice fell as yet again, the god damn twilight poster fell.”

“Right on time, Ghostie-poo.”

“Please don’t call the ghost that. It probably offends them.” This was Georgie, scowling at the use of a pet name for a ghost.

“Oh come on. How can we be sure the ghost even wants to talk?” The lights started flickering. 

“I guess it does,” said Melanie, with a smug smile.

“Oooooh Joe Spooky, what is your name?” Jon didn’t really expect a response, and rolled his eyes at Georgie and Melanie’s gasp as their hands started moving, assuming that it was fake. But then, their hands reversed direction. Slowly, laboriously, the “ghost” spelled out “i-m n-o-t s-p-o-o-k-y, b-i-t-c-h.”

“Did you need to add any profanity?” Georgie sighed. “Oh well, what shall we call you then?”

After a second, the planchette moved to “g-e-r-r-y”. 

“Cool name, is it short for anything? No, wait, that would take too long. How are you, I guess?” 

“h-o-w d-o y-o-u t-h-i-n-k i a-m”

“I dunno, ghosty, I suppose?”

Jon was about to walk away, when Georgie asked him to bring over her laptop. “I want to see if he can type.”

Her hand started moving on the board again, simply spelling out “n-o”. 

“So, digital won’t work. I think we have a typewriter in the back room. Perhaps you could fetch that for us?”

He sighed, and went to the back room. The typewriter was a bulky thing, all heavy metal keys and machinery. It appeared to be working though, so he made sure he had a good grip on it, and attempted to heft it into his arms. 

The metal was smooth, and his hands sweated uneasily as he thought about the looks on the other two’s faces, how their arms had seemed controlled by that outside force. But it was nonsense. He repeated it, mainly to reassure himself this time, that ghosts were not real. He almost lost his grip multiple times, struggling to lug the thing toward the twilight poster. After he finally set it down, perhaps a little too heavily, he flipped it off, much to Georgie’s amusement. 

Then, the keys started clicking. Thankfully, Jon had thought to put fresh paper in, and the ink ribbon was still good, although in the “ghost’s” (he was lying to himself at this point) haste to type things out, the keys got jammed several times. Finally, the furious typing stopped, and Melanie and Georgie stared at the small paragraph. 

{finally. you know how long its been since ive been able to talk? ever since i openned that stupid book and that old lady straight up murdered me, i’ve been stuck here. yall are so damn boring how many times have you read the house of leaves jon theres literally no excuse for being that boring. id say you rock the dark academia vibe but you just seem depressed. the only thing you have good taste in is not liking twilight}

“Damn. He’s got a lot of pent up rage, surprised he hasn’t slapped that book out of your hands yet.” Georgie was the first one to speak, her voice a little quieter, probably muted by shock.

“You know, you really do read that book a lot. I thought you didn’t like rereads?” This was Melanie, turning to him. “Always muttering about overused concepts and the like? Maybe the ghost is right.”

“I’m still not convinced this is a ghost. What if it’s just-’’ he searched his head frantically for a possible explanation. “An...intervention? You guys are worried that I’m seeing things so you buy a fake typewriter and...use it to scare me into admitting that I daydream?” It was lame, and he knew it. 

“Fine. Gerry is a ghost, all evidence points that way. So what are we going to do?” 

“How about..be nice to him. Maybe he’ll even stop knocking down the twilight poster.”

{doubtful}

“No need to be so rude.”

{it’s fun watching jon get mad, he always rants under his breath when i knock it over}

“It is kind of funny, isn’t it?” 

“Alright, alright, I have faults. Thank you, therapist ghost. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to reorganize the books that someone misfiled.” Jon glared at the empty air around where he assumed the ghost to be, and stalked off.

{isnt it hilarious when he’s angry? it’s kinda like a mad rabbit or something. just a tiny, feral man. anyways, i think im gonna go reorganize the books he puts in their proper places. ta}

Melanie and Georgie stifled their giggles. “Bye Gerry, have fun!”

{oh one more thing, tell jon his piano playing is excellent}

“Will do.”

Martin was in the back room, hefting a bag of coffee beans over his shoulder, when Tim ran in. 

“You won’t believe what just happened.” 

“I’m sure that I won’t. What happened, did Elias fall down the stairs again? Did you spot him getting his moustache waxed and screaming again? Did he choke on a sunflower seed in the food court...again? More importantly, did you get it on video?”

“Yes, but first, I’ve got a hell of a story. So...you know that old homeless man, Peter, I think? Probably vapes? Wears a sailors hat for some odd reason?”

“I’m familiar with him, yes.” Martin didn’t know him well, but the old man was something of an urban legend in the mall. A constant cloud of smoke surrounded him, faintly tutti frutti scented, and the scent of despair with that. If you talked to him for too long, sometimes you started feeling odd, but it was probably just a side effect of all the smoke inhalation. Probably. 

“So, I was idly staring out the window, looking out for that scrawny piano player you fancy, and I saw Elias hustling down the main avenue. Normal, right?”

“Yes, go on.” At this point, Martin sat down and buckled in, no use stopping the story now.

“I figured he was busting someone for dresscode or misspelling his name or something dumb like that, but I decided to use my valuable lunch break and follow him. Sasha started yelling at me, but Elias was more important, so I ripped off my apron and followed him. He’s almost sprinting at this point, and I can hear him wheezing before I see him. He runs up to Peter, right?” 

“Yeah…” 

“So he screams ‘This is the last you embarrass me in front The Mustache Curators, Peter. I want another divorce.”

“A-another divorce?”

“YES. I couldn’t gather much but apparently Peter got footage of Elias screaming when he got his moustache waxed, and showed it to the moustache authorities or something? Anyways, they started - I shit you not - dueling. As in, Peter pulled those swords out of his shopping cart and they duked it out in the plaza. There was an audience and everything. It only ended when Peter shoved Elias into the pond, I’ve never seen such disgruntled frogs.”

“Pond?” 

“Oh yeah, they probably put it in overnight. Very nice ambiance, you should check it out.” 

Martin lifted the bag of coffee beans again, taking them up front and placing them under the counter. He looked out the window just in time to see a soggy, disgruntled Elias pull himself out of the pond. 

Tim snickered and took several photos and a video of Elias apparently berating the frogs before he limped back to his office. 

“Tim, you can’t do that, he’ll see on the-’’ Martin limply gestured to the camera. 

“No he won’t, look closer.”

Instead of a shiny black lens, he saw a black piece of cardboard covering the camera’s view. “Elias is going to kill you.”

“Oh please, not like he’d notice. The old man-’’ Tim trailed off.

“The old man what? The old man will shut down the coffee shop and we’ll all be out of jobs and’’

“You might want to calm down, buddy. We’ve got,” here, Tim lowered his voice several octaves, “company.”

“Company? Oh!”

“Hey, what’s poppin’ piano man?”

He was there, right in front of Martin. Up close, he had pronounced bags under his eyes, and surprisingly long lashes. Coming out of his head, Martin realized that the man was talking to him.

“Sorry, what?”

“I was saying, does anyone here know how to brew ‘really good tea’?” The man shot Martin a dirty look as he said this, like it was Martin’s fault for zoning out when he was so...nice looking. 

“Well then, Mr. Mysterious Piano Man, Marto here would be the guy you were looking for. Best cup of tea I’ve ever had, and that’s saying something.” Tim winked, and Martin winced at the undeniable charm as he set the kettle on to boil. How the hell could he compete?

The man looked deep in thought, and once the kettle was boiling, handed over quite an unusually shaped tea bag. It looked like...an eye. Odd. The tag had an interesting label on it too, with a handwritten message saying something about “someone there makes very good tea ;)”. Why anyone would handwrite an emoticon was beyond him, but hey, he just made the tea. 

That was when it all went downhill. Martin heard the squeak of wet shoes on the mall floor and paled.

“Tim - run.” 

“What?” It was already too late. “Oh no. Time to face the music, boys.”

The music, in this case, was a soggy Elias, and the tension increased sixfold as he walked into the shop.

“Hello Elias!” Tim said brightly. “What can I do you for?” 

“You can do me for an explanation of how my - ahem - divorce negotiations ended up everywhere online.”

Martin turned to Tim. “You didn’t tell me that you poster the videos.”

“Well, I did.”

“How could you be so reckless and stupid? Come on, even you had to notice that that probably wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Quiet, Sasha, Elias is yelling at me right now. You’ll get your turn. Also, don’t worry, bossman. I’m sure the internet loves you. My twitter comments certainly do.”

“Maybe they do, but I have other concerns currently. For example, why did you block my camera? Because under the mall code, section 3, subset 20, that is very illegal. As in, I have a reason to shut down your store.”

Tim visibly paled, and Martin stared on in horror. This was almost exactly the conversation that they had not 5 minutes earlier. It was almost like...Elias knew. Reasonably, the cameras probably had microphones, and as neither Martin nor Tim had good volume control, he could’ve overheard, but it felt almost like he was watching, even when the lens was blocked.

Martin focused back in on what Elias was saying, which was along the lines of “something something shut the shop down unless”.

“I’m not just bothering the nice people of this mall for your dirty business,” Tim said indignantly.

“Well, as it turns out, you might just have to. I suspect you aren’t the only one who was tired of being, may i add, completely legally, watched. We wouldn’t want something to happen to your lease, now would we? Missing, gone, like...what was his name again?”

“Danny.” Tim’s voice was hard, a far cry from the jovial tone it usually had. Elias smiled sharply. 

“Well, take all the people you like. Call it...team building exercises, eh?”

Martin felt sick to his stomach, and a glance at Tim confirmed he felt that way too. 

“Well...that went down like a lead balloon.” Sasha emerged from the back room.

“What?”

“I said, that went down like a lead balloon.” 

“What are we even going to do? It’s literally only the three of us, and I’m guessing that we’re going to need all of our skills to get the cameras uncovered, even if it is a fool's errand. In case you haven’t noticed, that means that no one will be able to run the shop.”

“All three of us?”

“Yes,” Sasha said exasperatedly. “Tim for seducing people, you for being too damn nice, and me for cold, hard, blackmail. An unstoppable team.”

“I suppose, at very least, we get to explore.”

“Actually, that may be the only plus of our boss blackmailing us.” Sasha sounded way too cheery for someone who was being blackmailed. “I have a friend or two who owe some favors, and one is a decent latte artist, so now we have our replacements. Although - this place is way too confusing. We’re gonna need someone else, either as a tunnel rat or just to be extra mean.”

“I-I suppose I have a rather good sense of direction.” The man spoke up shakily. “I’ve always been good with -’’ he cleared his throat “- corn mazes.”

“We don’t even know you,” Tim scoffed, before being interrupted by Sasha. 

“If you want to, I think you could help us out. As long as we’re not dragging you away from playing piano or something? Just warning you, it might get a little funky, this place definitely isn’t normal. So, whaddya say...what was your name again?”

“Jon. And of course. As my job mainly consists of shuffling books around and being taunted by a twilight-hating ghost, I’d be happy to take a little time off.”

“Welcome to the team, I guess. We'll have to start with the battle plans tomorrow for covering everywhere in this place, and I have to train our 2 newest hires, but I say we should plan to start Monday next week?”

“Sounds good to me.”

After the plan was okayed by everyone, Sasha jumped back onto her phone, probably talking to the 2 new baristas.

Jon smiled wanly, and then took his tea and left. From up on the counter, Tim called a little louder than necessary down to Martin that “he could see it, but that Jon was a little scrawny for his taste.” Maybe Jon smiled, but Martin couldn’t tell behind the curtain of hair covering his face.

Jon almost fell into the pond again on the way back to the bookshop. 

“Hey, Georgie, I might have to take off for a week or two. Elias, you know, the asshole old man?”

“Wait, the one who fell into the pond? I follow Tim on twitter, and that video was hilarious.”

“Wait - you follow Tim? And yeah, the one that fell in the pond. He wants some people to go around, and uncover all of his cameras. Apparently, everyone is sick and tired of being watched, and they started blocking his free entertainment. So Elias got mad at Tim, because of the video and covering up the camera, and is sending him off, along with his coworkers, on a crusade to uncover them all. Also, they picked me to go along with them. Apparently, I’m ‘either a tunnel rat or extra mean”, and my corn maze skills will be useful.”

“Look at you, socially interacting...wait - corn mazes? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I swear that I have memories of you screaming so loud you scared the performers at that one place we went to.”

Jon flushed several shades darker than normal. “I thought we agreed never to speak of that again.”

“Well, Gerry and I were talking -’’

“What did you tell the ghost about, Georgie?”

“Oh you know, college days, good memories, the haircut.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I did.”

Jon heard the keys clacking and rushed over to the typewriter. 

{oh she did. my, what fine taste you have jon. tell me, were you sober when you got that cool do?}

“You showed him the pictures?”

“Maybe…”

“Well, at least I’ll have a few days for the humiliation to die down.”

The keys clicked smugly.

{oh, dont worry. i have no intention of letting you ever forget.}

He sighed. The twilight poster fell again. He took a sip of tea and almost choked. The label had not lied. He couldn’t place the flavor, but it was warm, just a little bit sweet, and absolutely perfect. He made a mental note to restock, and thank Martin for the tea when he got the chance. He still had several tea bags left from the small box, so perhaps he’d take another with him when he went to the shop tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the person who was excited for Gerry the ghost, I hope I did you proud.


	3. The Corridors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty self explanatory, eh? Today's chapter features: bad espresso, possible fortune telling tea, and the ineffable Gerry. When the gang™️ venture into the deceptive aisles of The Wayward Tea shop (back in existence) things go very wrong in some cases and very right in others...Also, you can probably tell where this is headed, and find me on my tumblr, crazylittlethingcalledspite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as per usual, gerry’s writing (typing?) will be put in {these brackets}

Tim was sprawled out on the couch in the back room, while Sasha perched on the armrest and Martin sat on the floor with his back against it. They were all chatting aimlessly when a light knock sounded on the metal doorframe. It was Jon. “Uhh...hi. Are we planning in here or…”

“Yes, in here. Make yourself comfy.”

“Very well.” Jon made his way over to the tattered armchair in the corner, sitting down and wincing when the springs creaked. He eventually gave up any semblance of dignity and simply let himself be engulfed by said chair.

“What’s with the notebook, Hemingway?” quipped Sasha.

“I figured that it could be helpful, and you don’t really look like notetakers.

“Not a secret undercover Elias wearing Ion’s skin then?”

“What? No. At least, I think so...”

Sasha grinned. “I take it your humour muscles haven’t been exercised in a while, Jon.”

“Well, my humour muscles are normally in better condition when I don’t have to spend the morning cleaning up after a wayward soul.”

“A...ghost?” Martin looked concerned and also slightly curious.

“Yes, Martin, a ghost.” Jon sighed. “So, shall we get on with it?”

“Oh,” replied Tim with a wicked grin. “We shall.”

Sasha clapped her hands briskly. “So, we need an efficient way to go around. I got this -’’ she pulled out some blueprints “ - from Elias’ computer.”

Tim sat bolt upright, and turned to Sasha. “Did you find anything juicy on his computer?” 

“Not here, idiot. In case you forgot...again, he has eyes everywhere.” She subtly tilted her head at the camera. “We’ll make a group chat or something, there are more pressing issues right now. So, if we want to start efficiently, I have a map of the cameras. I think we should work our way from the laser tag to indoor skydiving.”

“Ooh, I’ve heard about the one here, apparently state of the art, it sounded super fun.” Tim loved laser tag, he was a runner and although the signs said “No running” most of the time he took it as a helpful suggestion, rather than a safety order.

Martin shuddered. “The music in there is so loud, and I always manage to get hurt.” He winced, remembering the feeling of running into a wall. His head still ached when he thought of it, and Sasha pulled a face in sympathy. “I’m rather inclined to agree with Martin here, my childhood friends were all rather...hardcore, and didn’t really care about how much they roughed me up. Countless laser tag injuries plagued me in my youth.” Sighing dramatically, she collapsed onto Tim. “How did you do it, Sash? I always won. Why you, of all people managed to get hurt in a padded vest, with only a plastic gun as a weapon is beyond me.”

“Well Tim, have someone jump on you from on top of a partition and see how you get away scot free.”

“Wait, someone jumped on you? Isn’t that against the rules?” Jon had no idea how to play laser tag but there was no way in hell he was going to let Tim know.

“Yes, it’s against the rules,” Sasha said exasperatedly. “But that doesn’t stop kids from doing it. Haven’t you ever played laser tag? It’s a free for all. A bloodbath, if you will.”

“Well, actually, I haven’t.” Jok braced himself for the reaction.

Tim was aghast. “Honestly?”

“Yes, honestly. How is it that hard to believe? I don’t feel like I have the ‘look’ of someone who would enjoy laser tag.”

“You don’t look like you enjoy anything,” Tim muttered.

“Well, we’ll have to change that. I imagine that the people aren’t going to be happy that we’re running missions for that bastard. We might as well have fun while we unblock illegal camera cover ups.” Martin nodded, and then spoke up. “You know, we’re going to have to prepare for...other contingencies.”

Sasha nodded grimly. “Knowing this place, it’s a surprise someone hasn’t come after us yet.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jon asked, tentatively.

“What the hell do you think I mean? In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t exactly a normal mall.” Sasha was almost yelling this, but managed to calm herself down.

“I mean, the ghost is really the only thing that I think is odd. Although -’’ he paused. “Wait a minute, did you see me playing the ghost piano?”

“Ghost piano? I’m pretty sure that piano was real. In fact, I know it was real. I played megalovania on it...what was it, 2 days ago? Yeah. 2 days.”

“So Gerry wasn’t the only one that saw me...hmm. Did you see the tea shop too? Very bright?” 

“Actually, no. Haven’t heard of that one yet. I did almost see you fall into the pond yesterday though.”

“Wonderful,” Jon said dryly.

Jon stood up, beckoning for Tim to follow. “Now, if my memory serves correctly, it was right across the way, in that old abandoned...are you seeing it?” Tim nodded. His mouth was agape as he stared at the twisted neon letters above the metal grate covering the storefront. 

“Oh, thank snod it’s not a hallucination. Georgie and Melanie were getting worried.” Tim gave him a funny look. “Wait, the ghost hunter/podcaster girlfriends? They work here?”

“Yes?? Haven’t they talked about the book shop?”

“Forget about the spooky tea shop, I wanna meet them.” Tim eagerly turned towards the book shop, but thankfully Jon snapping at him got him back on course. “No, we need to go in there and see if there are cameras.”

“Ugh, you’re bossier than Sasha. Speaking of which, go grab her and Martin, we got some exploring to do.” Tim cracked his knuckles so loud that it made Jon wince as he went to fetch the others.

Martin had just finished making the tea as Jon came back into the shop, but hastily poured it into a travel mug as he was informed of what was about to happen. They grabbed Sasha and headed back out to find Tim with his gaze stuck on that yellow door. 

“Wanted to make sure it didn’t disappear again, boss. You seemed really worried about that.”

“And for good reason too, I’m going to need proof that I didn’t just hallucinate it.”

“I thought that this was for camera-finding purposes,” Tim said wryly. “Well, that too, but I mostly need to prove that I’m Not Crazy.” Jon was dead set on getting evidence as he marched towards the door, flinging it open. Bright light, much brighter than normal. “Just some forewarning, the last time that I was here, it was a little...disorientating.”

They walked in, and the bowling alley carpet screamed at their eyes. Well, not literally. Not that it not screaming would make a difference in how horribly bright it was. Filing cabinets stacked on top of each other, towering into heights that certainly didn’t seem possible, given the dimensions of the mall. Now that Jon had an opportunity to look around, he saw that the shelves seemed to stretch on for miles, with stacks and stacks of the same cardboard boxes on each one. As he looked closer down the aisle in front of him, a front counter seemingly popped into existence, right in the aisle.

“Hello there!” The man’s voice echoed, bouncing back and forth off of the shelves, fluctuating in volume like some sort of twisted voice modulator. “Back already, Jon? And I see that you’ve brought Martin with you, the tea always finds the right person, eh?” Michael winked and Jon choked on the tea he was drinking. What a waste, he thought, as Tim appeared to take too much pleasure in slapping him on the back. Martin was steadily turning redder.

“Oh, it appears I was wrong, my apologies. Anyways, what brings all of you into my little corner of the world?” His phrasing was very odd, but Jon opted to ignore in favor of staring at the man’s nametag. The letters swirled in a disturbing fashion that was probably just the lights, but was still unnerving to say the least. When they finally stilled, he saw the name -

“Michael.”

“Yes, it’s a name. Anyways, I can grab something for you guys?”

“I mean...you sell tea, right?” 

“True enough.” 

He set off quickly down an aisle to the right, a blur of motion. Jon spun around, trying to track him through the gaps in the shelves, but as the sounds echoed he swore he saw not just Michael moving through the shelves. Instinctively, he grabbed the closest thing to him, and Martin yelped, but Jon kept his grip. “Don’t let go, this place makes me think that it wants us seperated.”

“O-ok.” Jon wasn’t sure if it was the lighting or if Martin was blushing. He filed it away for later, grabbing Sasha’s hand. “Tim, get Sasha.” There was no response, and he looked around furiously, searching for a flicker of movement behind the shelves that might indicate where Tim was, but he was gone.

“Shit. Shit shit shit. Alright, we’re leaving. I can come back in later and find Tim.”

The other two numbly nodded, and they turned around to go exactly the same way that they had come in...directly into a shelf? After what seemed like miles of walking though the aisle to the left, they finally arrived in front of a yellow painted door.

“Let’s hope for the best,” Sasha said grimly, turning the knob with her free hand. The door swung open to reveal..the mall. The sigh of relief that swept through them was immense, and Jon finally released his death grip from the other 2. His hands were admittedly, very sweaty, and he cringed as he wiped them on his pants, offering an apologetic glance to Martin and Sasha, who gave their own back.

Sasha checked her phone and immediately yelled. “Shit. They’re here. Actually, if that pyramid wasn’t in the way, you’d be able to see them.” She set off around the new addition at a brisk pace, and Jon almost jogged to keep up with her but decided to keep his feet safe and walk slowly towards the coffee shop.

He was just in time to see Sasha hug a woman while another stood impassively beside her. He assumed that they were the 2 new (read: temporary) baristas. As he neared, he heard her say something about training, and “team bonding.”

“Well, I think I’ll be off. The idea of not knowing what kind of coffee they’re going to try to force into me is completely unappetizing, and I have some questions to ask our resident supernatural expert.”

“You mean...the ghost?”

“Yes, I mean the ghost.” Martin looked like a kicked puppy, so Jon sighed. “You may come along, I find that he doesn’t take to kindly to me, so perhaps he’d like you better. Also, it’s a public book shop. You don’t technically need permission to come in.”

Sasha called to them as they walked back around the pyramid. “Don’t worry boys, I’ll text Martin when it’s time to come over for badly made lattes and bonding.”

“Oh good lord.”

“Actually, I really don't want to drink caffeine this late, it makes me nauseous and really disturbs my concentration when I write -’’ Martin noticed that Jon was looking at him blankly. “Sorry.” Jon shook his head. “It’s fine.” As soon as they crossed the threshold of the shop, he headed over to an apparently antique typewriter that’s keys were moving. Martin couldn’t see anyone in front of it.

“Hello, Gerry. Gerry, Martin. Martin, Gerry. So, introductions made, something tells me you know about what’s going on in that tea shop. Spill, Gerry.”

{hello martin. also, i can’t really recall a tea shop, tbm}

“Tbm?” 

“Tiny bastard man. He claims that it’s affectionate -’’

{it is!}

“- but I think that it’s just offensive.” Martin started laughing. “It definitely fits, Gerry.” 

“Alright, yes, I’m short, etc. Tell me about the tea shop.”

{so pushy...so uhh michael runs it. hes pretty nice nice looking that is id run my fingers through his hair-again

“Stay on track here, Gerry.”

{fine. anyways, you might have noticed its unusual properties. very confusing, although i must say that your strategy was efficient, if not seeped in ulterior motives.}

Jon spluttered as the typing continued.

{so, you need someone who knows the aisles, or has...pull with michael}

“Do I want to know what ‘pull’ is classified as?”

{turn around}

This was typed exasperatedly, almost like Gerry was concerned and amused at the same time. Tim had no idea what he had gotten himself into. He strutted out of the shop like the cat that ate the canary, and there was a bag in his hand. Turning around, he seemingly waved goodbye to the door, and Jon heard a staticky pop as...something happened. When he and Martin walked outside to say hell, the door was gone. Just an empty bank, with the metal grate out front. Tim was still grinning as he checked his phone.

“What the hell?”

“No time for that now, it’s ‘team bonding’ time.” How Tim said that through his enormous grin was beyond Jon.

“Well, if someone hadn’t wandered off, maybe we wouldn’t need to do bonding.”

“Oh, cheer up. It’s all part of my devilish charm. Lead the way, bossman.”

Jon tried his hardest not to stalk over to the coffee shop, but he couldn’t help a little irritation from seeping into his walk. How the hell had Tim gotten out fine? He didn’t seem to be suffering any of the disorentating effects that Jon had, or if he was, he was hiding it well. 

Melanie waved them over to the counter, where she introduced them to Rae and Julianna. The latter was the latte artist, and although she was talented, creating shapes and swirls with the steamed milk, she was apparently not as good at making espresso, or hadn’t figured out how to use the espresso machine right? He sat on the same armchair and drank the bitter, gritty coffee as Tim recounted his escapades.

“How did you even get lost? Were the aisles...moving or something?”

“No. Well, maybe, but I wandered off on my own accord. Thought I saw someone in between the shelves,” he said offhandedly.

“Human?” 

“Maybe.”

“Oh come on, you have to give us more than that, how did you get out?”

“Fine. I wandered off, turning at random. I can’t remember exactly how many turns I took, but when I found my way back, I couldn’t see you guys anymore. So I just sat on the counter and waited until Michael came back. Eventually, he did and we...talked.”

“Wait, you have all of our tea?”

“And mine, yes.” Tim pulled cardboard boxes out from the bag at his feet, tossing them towards the respective owners. “I would have gotten those two’s -’’ he nodded his head towards the door “- but I didn’t know their names until about 5 minutes ago.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind,” Sasha commented, distracted by her (much better looking than Jon’s) drink.

“Besides, we need to figure this out. So, -’’ she rolled the floor plans onto the table, “ -we start at the left side of the mall, laser tag. Then, on to the wax museum.”

Martin interjected. “Wax museums freak me out. I might have to -’’

“No sitting it out. You too Tim, Jon and I can’t do this on our own.” Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t make you go if I didn’t think your big, bulging, muscles would help us.” She batted her eyelashes and Tim cracked a smile as the worried look faded off his face.

“Where was I? Oh, right! Wax museum, that weird pyramid scheme that I know Elias knows about, but never disturbs, we forgot to look for cameras in the wayward tea shop, then on to the bookshop, escape rooms, bowling alley. D’you think we should just cross over to the chuck e cheese, or save it for last? I say we put something fun in the middle, that way it helps us go on to the next part. So, chuck e cheese, indoor skydiving, flower shop, pet shop, the illegal fireworks shop that Elias also hasn’t shut down? And finally, the art gallery.”

“Alright, alright, yes, fun times. Now, can we go home?” Tim sounded jovial, but Jon could see a shadow in his eyes.

”I second that.” Martin’s eyes were drooping as he slowly sipped on his hot chocolate, warm drinks almost always made him fall asleep. “I’m heading home, today has been way too difficult to process.”

Tim saluted, Sasha said a halfhearted goodbye and Martin walked in a daze out of the shop, after whispering a thank you to Rae for his rather delicious frappe.

“Monday, then?” Jon idly asked.

Sasha yawned. “Monday.” He barely remembered his tea as he left, but he noticed that the labels had...something different on them. Whatever. He’d deal with it in the morning.

“Wait! Jon, I need your number. Tim has memes he wants to send you and we might as well have some way to communicate with each other.”

He relinquished his phone and Sasha made sure his number was in hers, so once they said their final goodbyes and he had gotten on the tube home, he grabbed one of the tea bags out of the box. He must look like a loon, craning at the label in the dim fluorescents, but he didn’t care. “Stock up on bandaids and keep 999 on speed dial.” He was shocked. Not only did it know about their little laser excursion, it knew that he already had the emergency number on speed dial.

He hadn't realized that he’d read the message out loud, but judging from the odd stares he was being given, apparently he had. So he pulled House of Leaves out of his bag and began to read, unfolding the creased page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot emphasize how much fun writing gerry is he’s just my thoughts, comments and kudos feed the starving author


	4. Zappity doo dah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when you shove 4 adults into a room with (laser) guns? Jon and Martin get *ahem* slaughtered, Sasha figures something out, and Georgie wins a bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all of gerry’s lines will be in {these brackets}, as per use.

When Jon strolled into the coffee shop, his travel mug of hot water was ready for the teabag. After getting home Friday night, he had texted the group chat with what he had, and they confirmed that it lined up with their respective teabags. Sort of. Most of them were something along the lines of “be careful” or “bring some bandaids,” which was very worrisome.

“Excited for laser tag today?” Tim grinned. He was always grinning. Frankly, it was kind of disconcerting.

“Do I look excited?”

“No, but I’m sure you will be when we slaughter some year olds with our epic laser beams.”

Jon sipped his tea. “Listen, maybe we don’t actually have to play laser tag. I mean, we could just go in and ask to see the cameras…”

Sasha piped in. “Absolutely not. We can’t earn the ill wishes of everyone in this mall. We already have Eliass coming around every day or so to yell at Tim -’’

“- he liked what he saw!” Tim protested.

“Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but your booty shorts also didn’t up the customer sales, which was the only reason I let you wear them in the first place.” Tim pouted, and said sulkily, “Whatever. I still say they worked.”

Martin whispered aside to Jon. “They definitely didn’t work.” He snickered. “It was worth it to see Elias get so mad, though. He got all red and splotchy and started yelling about ‘professional responsibility’ in the workplace.” Jon had to crack a smile at the sardonic tone in Martin’s voice as he said ‘professional responsibility.’ 

“Here’s the best part of it all, Jon,” Sasha stage whispered. “Tim went all ‘good little boy’ on Elias, saying that he made a mistake and that ‘it wouldn’t happen again’.” She snickered. Tim was turning bright red. Jon cracked a smile. How refreshing it was to see Tim flustered. 

“Anyways, gather round, kiddos.” Sasha rolled out a map of the cameras, each one marked with red sharpie. “So, there are 5 cameras in the laser tag place.” She tapped each with the marker. “We’re going to go in teams of 2, so -’’

“I call Martin!”

“No you do not. Tim, me and you, and then Jon and Martin.” Tim groaned. “Be happier, Tim, now you get to go ham on Jon. It simply isn’t fair putting both of us on the same team, but I’ll do it just for you.”

“Boy oh boy, Sasha, could we try not to break my arm this time?” Martin looked at Sasha with puppy dog eyes. “You changed the entire structure of my handwriting.”

“Listen, swinging on the ceiling wires wasn’t my best idea, but it did help us win…” Martin stared at her. “Alright, fine. No promises for Tim though, he might be a danger with all that pent up rage about Elias.” Tim’s grin was sharp as he looked at Jon, who winced. Jon raised his hand. “My bones are probably not as sturdy as Martin’s, so can we hold off on going Tarzan?”

“Sasha said no promises, but I suppose that we wouldn’t want a hospital trip.” Tim looked thoughtful. “Fine.” Everyone nodded, and they started filing out of the shop, waving a goodbye to Rae and J, who had gotten significantly better at making coffee.

As they walked into the laser tag arena, the black lights and faux-apocalyptic music assaulted their senses. After Tim paid (he said it was if he accidentally sent anyone to the hospital) they watched the stupid little safety movie that nobody pays attention to and went to the room that contained the vests. 

“I call red team!” Tim shouted, sprinting past the assorted teenagers that would be joining them to snag a red flashing vest. Sasha sighed, and grabbed her own, leaving Jon and Martin to blue. The vests seemed to fit everyone else fine, Jon thought, but-

“Good lord, Jon. Should we ask the lady for a kids size or something?” Sasha was trying not to laugh as she said this.

“Shut up.” Jon was engulfed by the vest, it hung off his skinny frame like a sail. “This is fine.” He twisted around, trying to wrangle the straps so it kind of fit. It didn’t work. “Could someone please help me out here?”

“Sorry, I’m laughing too hard, maybe Martin can help.” Tim was bent over, convulsing as Jon tried to keep an annoyed expression in his face

“Fine.” Martin walked over behind Jon, and started gently tightening the straps, tugging the shitty fabric through the loops with ease. “All good?”

“Yes. Thank you, Martin. I - couldn’t have done it myself.”

“No problem.” Martin’s smile was really nice, now that Jon thought about it. His eyes squished up and he had dimples that popped into existence. Jon shook his head, professional. They had to get the cameras. “Does everyone remember which cameras they're going after? Tim and I’ll get the two in the back, since they seem to be higher up and we’re both more...agile,” Sasha said, staring at Jon’s skinny frame. He didn’t try to hide the look of annoyance on his face. “Come on man, you look like you haven’t eaten or slept properly for months.”

It was only partly true, Jon had a pretty bad case of insomnia and spent his nights reading in his flat, drinking lukewarm black coffee and listening to the radio.

“Lay off him, it’s the mans’ first game of laser tag. He’s not going to enjoy it if you tackle him and rag on him the whole time,” Martin spoke up. Jon smiled, and whispered a thanks that shone it Martin’s mind.

“Time to head in,” Sasha said airily. “You two, stick together, and make sure you don’t lose to three kids and Tim and I. Oh wait, never mind, we’re going to kick your asses.” She walked away, and then consulted with the kids and Tim for a moment, strategizing? and the group proceeded to high five and split up. The kids on Jon’s team eyed him distastefully and walked into the arena without a second glance.

“Guess that’s it, I s’pose? Shall we?” Martin said. They walked through the door. In the actual arena, the music was even louder, pounding into his skull like a lead pipe. After a countdown sounded over the speaker, the laser fire started almost immediately, and Jon whirled around, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. He finally saw Tim, standing on a 12 foot tall barrier, peeling away a sticker that covered the camera lens as Sasha literally covered him, fending off the rabid teenagers trying to shoot him down. Who had he even gotten up there that fast? Sasha smiled, and then sunk a hit on both Jon and Martin, causing their vests to vibrate as the little lights covering them blinked off.

“Fuck.” Jon yelled, and Martin looked appalled. “Even if they are teenagers, you shouldn't say that.” Sasha started shooting at them again, joined by two of her teenage teammates, so they were forced to flee down a dark corridor. Jon’s heart was racing, this was terrifying. How in the hell this didn’t give little kids trauma was beyond him.

“Alright, everything is out the window. Do you see the first camera?” Martin shouted.

“Yeah, I might not be tall enough to reach it though.”

“Cover me then,” Martin said, standing on his toes as his arm reached for the lens. Jon turned his back, waiting for the sound of the adhesive peeling away as his eyes searched the dark for the lights on the vests. It wasn’t like he could hear it though, his senses were already strained from the intense laser tag stimulus. Laser fire from the right of his vision alerted him to one of the random kids on his team getting into a scrape, and he wildly blasted all over the place trying to hit Tim’s vest. It didn’t work. Tim shot him down in a second, and he heard Martin swear as Sasha got him...again. 

Martin finally finished uncovering the camera, and they started to run towards the location of the second when Jon looked up and saw a kid above him, in between the barriers and about to shoot. In a knee jerk reaction, he shot the kid, dodged her when she fell, and then continued on, hearing the fake blaster sounds behind him getting closer. He knew that it was Tim, and cursed himself for not even trying to exercise once in a while.

He turned a corner, thanking some sort of being that he didn’t believe in for making him wear shoes with good tread, and continued on as fast as he possibly could. He couldn’t hear Martin’s soundtrack of “shitshitshitshitshitshit” behind him anymore, so that probably meant he was either hurt or that they had gotten separated. Jon hoped that it was the latter. 

Sasha was laughing in the distance, and when he ran up a ramp and took a sharp right, he nearly ran into a chest height partition. Seeing his opportunity, he used whatever strength he had left to clamber onto it. Below him, Jon saw both Tim and Sasha round the corner, looking confused when they didn’t see him. 

“You can’t hide forever, Jon.” Sasha sounded terrifying, and her voice still managed to be creepy over the sound of the music. She and Tim crept up the ramp, and she stuck her gun around the corner to make sure that no one was there. No one was, but she didn’t think to check above her.

Once he had a clear shot, he got them both, and laughed (cackled) triumphantly as they looked around in confusion. From his vantage point he could actually see pretty well, and managed to get another one of the goons in red. He shimmied across the beam, leaning down and almost falling as he got the sticker covering the third camera, and giving Martin a thumbs up. Laser fire almost made him fall again, and he shot back as Tim attempted to...shake the beam?

“Even you have to know that that won’t work,” he called, over the sound of the music. 

“Oh, I just have to distract you,” Tim replied, with a grin. Then, Sasha shot Jon, and he startled so hard that he dropped his gun, and overbalanced trying to grab it and…

He woke up with Martin’s face over his, looking worried and jumped. It sent a bolt of white hot pain through his arm.

“Godammit, what happened. Wait, wait, don’t tell me. Tim baited me, Sasha shot me, and I fell. Did we at least win?”

“You lost by a whopping 10,000 points. But, on the bright side, your arm isn’t broken, and we got all the cameras!”

“Yay...what to do about the arm, though?”

“Hey, Jon, look at me.” Martin said this directly in his ear, and he turned and found himself staring into Martin’s eyes. Before he had time to pull back, he looked a little closer, and...he was leaning in. Martin’s eyes were so...beautiful. Shit, he hadn’t felt like this since - hell - Georgie? That’s when Martin popped his arm back into the socket with an apologetic smile.

“Gotta make sure you’re relaxed.”

“Fuck! Godamnit, really?”

“Sorry.” Martin didn’t look sorry. “No emergency room trips tonight.”

“Did you see how his eyes went all gooey?”

“I did.” Sasha allowed herself a small smile, and Jon knew that she knew. He shot her a glare, and she looked smug. “Say Tim, what do you think Martin would say if -’’

“How about we go back to the shop?” Jon quickly changed the subject, he had known the man for what, 2 days? Currently he was on a bench, staring at the pagoda that had replaced the pyramid. “Tim, didn’t Rae promise to make you a frappuccino?” Tim’s eyes lit up.

“She did. I’m parched after all that chasing, and fleeing, and climbing, and deafening music. Shall we?” He held out his arm, and Sasha grabbed it, whispering a “you won’t get away with this so easily again” to him as they walked away. Jon grimaced as Martin pulled him up to a standing position. 

“Well, I suppose it’s time for mediocre espresso and some frantic googling for care of dislocated arms.”

“Actually, I was an emt as a teen, thought I was going to go into medicine for quite a while.”

“Really? Don’t suppose you could give me any advice?” The moon shone through the glass window in front as they walked, side by side, back to the coffee shop, chatting quietly. In the book shop, Gerry slapped his forehead.

{how the hell did you even get that right you’ve never even met the man}

“I’ve known Jon for a while, and the way he talked...pay up.”

{fine}

A cascade of golden coins fell to the floor.

“How did...how did - never mind, I don’t want to know.” Georgie picked up the coins off the floor.

{probably for the best to be honest. off to see if i can get elias to sign important shit in crayon. did you know that he has a weed tattoo?}

“Wait, weed tattoo? Gerry, I need more information.”

The typewriter was silent, and Georgie sighed. “Fine then, keep your secrets.” She started to close up.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Later that night, in his flat, Jon checked the “magic” teabags, which was quickly becoming a nocturnal habit. Coffee, book, radio, read the teabag. “Remember who you are, eh? Maybe I should text Martin…”

Jon pretended that Martin’s input would be useful, and maybe it would, but he also just wanted to talk. He settled in with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanna send me memes? i’m on tumblr under @/crazylittlethingcalledspite and i also have posted a rough map for the design of the mall -> https://crazylittlethingcalledspite.tumblr.com/post/625746937309724672/hey-there
> 
> comments and kudos feed the author’s soul, y’know?


	5. People of Wax

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When venturing into a wax museum, timsasha shenanigans, a tiny bit of pining, and a hatchet all make their appearances. Also, I am projecting myself onto these characters because >:)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gerry’s helpful advice will be in {these brackets}

If you had looked into the windows of Iris Books on just the right Tuesday, you might have noticed something very odd. Well two very odd things. Firstly, there was a typewriter, which wasn’t unusual in itself, but the typewriter was moving on it’s own. Secondly, the small crowd gathered around the sentient typewriter appeared to be...taking notes? And one of them had AN hatchet. An honest to god hatchet that looked too heavy for him to hold, hefted as he stared at the typewriter.

Gerry was typing furiously, trying to put what he was saying into comprehensible speech. Jon had a hatchet and his tea, although he appeared to be straining to hold the axe casually. Martin was anxiously fiddling with the sleeve of his jumper as he tried to comprehend what Gerry was saying. Tim whispered something to Sasha, who smacked him while looking intently at the paper.

On the wall behind them, there was a newspaper article talking about how “3 gone mad at the controversial London wax museum? Owned by an eccentric who used the name Nikola Orsinov, the victims had been found with gratuitous injuries and clawed out eyes, and although foul play was suspected, there were no other customers, and Nikola herself was cleared. A very pale officer told the paper that apparently ‘the victims had clawed each other and several statues to pieces’. More information, if there is any, on this chilling case will be published soon.” Jon had heard all about it, at least when it was still open. Georgie and Melanie had mourned for the dead sure, but after several trips to the wax museum, they found nothing. “Not even any suspicious bloodstains,” Goegie said, sadly, and Melanie nodded. 

“How...disappointing.”

“The lady who runs is is really fucking spooky though, she sounds almost...plastic.”

“Mhmm how cool.”

Back to the typewriter, though. While Gerry was always a bastard, he normally had good info and was willing to give it out, just not to Jon.

{ah, my fan club!}

“Can it, Gerry. We need to hear about this Orsinov character.”

“Don’t mind him, Gerry, he’s just mean.” Martin smiled. “How are you today?”

“Oh come on, ghosts don’t have feelings. I’m gonna side with Jon here.”

“Bad idea Sash, ghosts definitely have feelings and I have a nagging idea that you just pissed this one off.”

“C’mon, it’s not like he’ll do anything too bad. Like, what, putting up a twilight poster 3 times a day can’t be too bad…” Jon scowled. 

“Well, Sasha, not all of us have the honor of being a goddamn beanpole.”

“She’s our beanpole.” Tim said indignantly, and Martin nodded. “Besides, she gives epic piggyback rides.”

“You said that I almost dropped you, you-”

{ahem.}

Sasha sighed. “I’m sorry, gerry. Please continue. Your thoughts on our situation are valid...probably.” She whispered aside to Tim, “why are we trusting the ghost?”

“Because he is subcorporeal and also a very good journalist. The mans can walk through walls, Sash. And besides, he’s our only real lead for spooky stuff in this whole mess.”

{can i speak now yall}

“Yes, go on Gerry.” Jon said exasperatedly. “Regale us.”

{dont be a bitch tbm. martin, i am doing lovely today, thank you for asking.}

“This is useless.”

{let me finish dude it’s so hard to type on this thing. you have no idea how much effort it takes to be solid for this long} The typing paused for a second, and then resumed.

{nikola is...odd. I’ve been over there a few times, but she never movies. i actually saw a fly crawl on her face for a solid 15 minutes and she didn’t even twitch. that place has to be ancient, and yet she’s never...faded. try to stay away from there, and get in and out as fast as possible. jon, the hatchet may or may not be useful, as i suspect that the statues have something to do with this. also, it looks pretty heavy. you all good?}  
“I. Am. Fine.” This was said through gritted teeth, and with no small amount of malice towards Gerry. “Also, I am perfectly capable of holding a hatchet on my own.” Dammit, why did Gerry always have to do that in front of Martin? He looked over, and the man seemed amused, which forced Jon to smile, because the light made him look...angelic. Nope, ignore that. What was making him so happy, anyways? (it was stray italian greyhound playing over the speakers)

{whatever you say fam. so, in and out, get the cameras, avoid nikola, make sure you keep your eyes on everyone, dont use the hatchet unless absolutely necessary. Personally i think martin deserves it}

“Fine, fine, I’ll give Martin the damn hatchet.” Jon exaggeratedly handed him the weapon, but their hands brushed and the other flinched. Jon wondered what the hell was wrong with him, but pulled away quickly, feeling something akin to...shame? He threw that thought out though, and concentrated, making sure that he remembered the steps.

{one more thing. just make sure that you know each other well}

“So like...that one trope where you gotta figure out which person is the real one? I’ve always hated shit like this, but I suppose you all need fun facts about me.” Tim said this resignedly. “Something that I’ve never told anyone?”

“You know what? No. We can outsmart this. Let’s pick a word, like a time travel code but for this specific situation.” Eventually, they settled on one, and after everyone but Jon thanked Gerry, they left the shop, and turned right, towards the wax museum. It honestly wasn’t that far of a walk, but as the faded letter on the sign came closer, Jon felt overcome with a sense of dread. Something just wasn’t right, the sign looked scrawled, and the lurid, drippy red only gave the creeping feeling that it Was Not paint.

The storefront itself looked dusty and old, with a sagging recreation of Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz displayed, and behind her a terrifying scarecrow that looked like that one cursed picture of mickey mouse, at least, that was what Jon thought Tim said through his gasping laughter.

Sasha was doubled over too, and Martin was howling. “You’re right, it looks exactly like that picture. Oh my god I need proof. Do they do birthday parties here?”

“I doubt it.”

“You know, I’ve never seen anyone come in and out of here before…” Tim stared at the scarecrow face in the window for longer, and couldn’t help himself from shuddering, but still took a photo with a forced smile on his face. “How many cameras again, Sash?”

“Too many for a place this small. Maybe they had to up security after the...incident? There are 7, so it’s gonna take a little bit longer.”  
“Ahh, I can feel my work ethic slipping away, can’t I stay at the shop, Sasha?”

“Absolutely not. Suck it up, and let’s get this bread. Hands in.” Jon sighed, and joined the other’s for a halfhearted “go, team!”.

When they walked in, a woman was standing behind the counter. Her name tag read Nikola, and Jon simply assumed that she didn’t have any employees and ran the place herself. To be honest, that was probably for the better, it would be easier to get the cameras uncovered with no one but Nikola there, and the crowded shop, a maze of notable/not notable historical figures would also help with cover. There were way too many of the statues, he thought, and it felt like the layout was constantly changing. Not unlike The Wayward Tea shop, he supposed. But this felt more sinister, somehow. It was probably just his mind though, there were way too many movies that profited off the idea of inanimate objects starting to move. Sasha looked around warily, and Jon could almost see the equations behind her eyes as she took stock of their surroundings. 

Tim seemed to get exponentially more nervous when he walked in and saw a figure of P.T Barnum, moving closer to the group and not taking his eyes off of the thing. He could, no, he would protect them. No matter what. He wouldn’t let it happen again.

Martin for his part, seemed unperturbed, looking at the figures, and then starting to speak to the lady at the counter.

“Hello! 4 tickets, please.” he tried to hide the incriminating feeling that was attached to the hatchet in his backpack. If he was found out...god, he couldn’t even think about what would happen, to him, to his mother...nope, situation at hand, Martin. Focus.

“Of course!” Nikola’s voice did sound plastic, sharp and high in a way that grated against your very bones. Tim had to wince, it seemed so familiar. Sasha and Jon, for their parts, tried to smile. Nikola must have had a wig, or something of that nature, but it seemed to be slipping, and her scalp was a peculiar black color, and was so clean shaven that it shined under the fluorescents. Martin couldn’t help but notice that she was wearing gloves when she handed him the tickets, and that no other part of her skin other than her face was showing. He wasn’t one to judge, but it was quite odd to wear elbow length gloves in the middle of summer. Personal preference perhaps, and he would do anything for the vibes (registered trademark) including wearing jumpers in the middle of summer, so he supposed that gloves were not so different.

Oh, who was he kidding? Nobody wore gloves anymore, something was seriously wack with this hoe, but he wasn’t gonna pull a “little kid with the mall santa” and rip off the fraud of a wig she was wearing. Only his self restraint stopped him from doing that, and the fact that it would probably not be attractive to go feral and assault someone in front of his friends..

Sasha waved her hand, and Martin blinked. “Right, the tickets. Here you go, one for everyone,” he said, handing out the tickets. Martin noticed that Jon tried hard not to touch his hand and remembered not to feel too hurt, maybe the guy just had cleanliness issues? But that almost hurt him more, so he turned his attention back to the tickets. Odd, this one looked like it had been punched before. “Uhh, ma’am? My ticket looks like it’s already been used?” he trailed off.

“Oh don’t worry, they won’t be coming back. It’s all yours.” She smiled, and Martin held back the urge to scream. Too pristine and definitely Too Many Teeth. Martin felt Sasha grab his arm and squeezed her hand, only to notice that A) it was not Sasha’s and B) it was Jon’s. He grimaced, and whispered a ‘sorry’ before Sasha indicated that they had been standing there long enough, and they ventured into the aisles.

“I really do not like this, guys.” Martin spoke up, and Jon nodded along with the others, but his mind continued to wander. Dammit, why did his stupid clingy instincts have to jump out here, of all places? But the wax museum was...he didn’t want to use the word ‘spooky” but that actually fit. The statues were all dusty, and some of them had half melted, faces drooping, and wigs slipping.

“Me neither, it’s going to be hard keeping track of the cameras and that creepy lady. Seems like she’d fit right in with these things.” Tim added. He stared at the queen, and her lifeless eyes stared back, piercing right through him. “The real queen might be eternal but this one certainly isn’t,” he said, pointing at the drips of wax running down her face. “Also, that lady’s smile was creepy as hell.”

“It honestly was, did you see her forehead?”

“Yeah, but it’s probably just a skin condition, don’t judge.”

“Ahh, I’m so scared. Sasha, can I hold your hand?” Tim wheedled.

“Your hands are always sweaty, stop it you bastard.” Eventually, she relented, and Jon had to smile at how relaxed they seemed together, while Tim swung their arms like a child, smiling. Friendship had never come easy for Jon, and he snuck a glance at Martin as Sasha directed them to the first camera, aided by Tim, who helped her hold the map.

“Alright, we have arrived at our destination, but why are the damn ceilings so tall?”

“Design flaw, or maybe Douchard planned this?” Tim muttered. “But! This does mean that… we may have to get a little creative. Here, get onto the platform.” He clambered up, and then offered Sasha a hand, hoisting her up. “And I have an idea,’ he said, grinning. “You might not like it Sash, but I’m gonna need your help with this one. How good are you at heavy lifting?” 

“Oh, hell no. Martin would be much better at this, why don’t you ask him?” She poked Tim, but he stood his ground.

“Come on, you know that I’m a cheerleader, but Martin could probably hold you up better. More solid shoulders, y’know?” She pointedly ignored her broad shoulders as she said this.

“Sorry madame, but you are super epicly buff, and I am kind of tall and decently light and you can lift me no problem. Cheerleaders literally do that all the time.”

“Just because I do it well with my trained counterparts does not mean that I want to attempt this shit with a buffoon that can’t even keep his balance on the ground.”

“A guy falls down the stairs once, and they never let you forget it. That’s a low blow and you know it.” Tim looked at Jon. “C’mon, help me plead my case here.” 

“Couldn’t I just do it? After all, I’m lighter, and-”

“-you are also too short! These are probably 13 foot ceilings!” Tim crowed. “Time to beam me up, Scotty.

“Alright, fine, I give up. Get over here, Tim. No offense Jon, but I trust him with this more than you.”

“None taken, Sasha, I’m probably better suited on the ground. I do have a small fear of heights.”

“Now, we’re gonna put you on my shoulders first, and then we’ll figure out something for you to stand on them, Tim. Martin, you’re going to be our spotter because Tim would just crush Jon. That basically just means that you’re gonna stand so that if Tim falls backwards, he won’t fall all the way down. Jon, you’re on lookout. Have fun!”

Jon grumbled and made his way over to the doorway. If he concentrated, he could see the motionless figure at the front, so he turned around and watched Tim and Sasha. It was absurdly funny. Tim managed to get onto Sasha’s shoulders, which was a little difficult, but while she didn’t wobble at all as she stood up, however, Tim did. He tried to grab the wall for support, but accidentally hit Sasha, causing her to sway, which caused him to latch on tighter.

“Bloody hell Tim, you’re gonna rip my face off.” A flash of the woman behind the counter in his mind, and examining her in his head, it looked like her face didn’t...fit her quite right? Trick of the light. Concentrate on watching the others, Jon thought. Tim couldn’t reach the camera, so Sasha sighed, and cupped her hands in front of her in a way that meant he could step onto them. He did so, and then carefully stepped up, tried to extend to his full height and knocked his head on the ceiling.

“Fuck, that hurt, maybe Jon would be better suited, I’m gonna get arthritis or something hunched like this “

“Get the sticker off, you can complain later.”

“yOu CaN cOmPlAiN lAtEr” he mocked as he carefully examined the camera, and then he screamed. “Shit, this feels like flesh. Actually I thought it was, which was why I screamed, but it’s apparently just wax. How efficient.” He dropped the lump onto the floor, and the crouched even further. “Can you guys uhh...catch me? I really don’t think that I can maneuver my way back down.”

Martin looked up. “Actually, I think I can, I have some experience with stuff like this. Just-be careful, I don’t wanna hurt you.” Tim agreed, and after a count of three basically rolled himself into Martin’s arms. Jon had to pointedly ignore the small butterfly of jealousy making a home in his stomach until it went away. 

“Alright, can we head on? Please?” he said quickly. “This is taking forever.”

“Oh, is someone...jealous?” Tim said smugly from in Martin’s arms. Bastard. “Drop him, Martin,” Sasha said venomously, and Tim sat bolt upright just in time to avoid landing directly on his ass. Sasha winked, and Jon shot her a thankful look. 

“Right on, let’s keep going! This shouldn’t be too hard!”

Apparently the ceilings were all that high, and the wax was in each one sometimes being covered in cloth or something else of the sort. If the figures were wax, why would they need synthetic skin? One of the many mysteries of this musty old place. But then, it started getting odd. During the 4th camera, as Tim was balanced on Sasha’s shoulders, Jon started getting a queer feeling that he was being watched.

He turned around, and limping (she was walking oddly) was Nikola. The motions were so plastic that he thought one of the wax figures had come to life for a second. Stuff and nonsense, he chided himself. They couldn’t come to life, because they were wax. In the display case at the front of the store that he could not see, Dorothy had vanished.

“Hello there! Are you enjoying your trip?” Nikola asked brightly.

“Um...yes! Actually, I had a question about one of the figures at the front!” He quickly led Nikola away from the others, hoping that she didn’t hear Tim’s muttered cursing and Sasha’s griping about how bony Tim’s ass was...again.

“You always say how thick you are but now that you are sitting on my shoulders I would like to argue that. You probably wear those butt extender pads or something. Actually, those would make this a lot easier, it’s like there are chair legs digging into my shoulders,” was the last thing that Jon heard before walking out of hearing reach. Hopefully his hearing was better than Nikola’s

He led Nikola towards the figure that he had assumed to be P.T Barnum, but upon closer inspection, the man only looked like him at first impression and his features started to melt, warping the figure into a different man entirely.

“My…’father’.” the way that Nikola said this made Jon think that perhaps it was a step-parent or something of the short, like putting a facade over whoever (the nameplate now read Gregor Orsinov) Gregor Orsinov was.

He shrugged, thanked her for her help, and asked where the bathroom was. She directed him towards the back, and once Jon was certain that Nikola was back behind the counter, he rushed toward the others, who he found waiting. “Sorry for leaving so quickly, I had to lead her away. But she showed me this odd thing with the statues, they almost change entirely. You know the P.T Barnum one right when we came in/”

“Pee Pee who now?” Tim snickered.

“The circus guy. Yeah, turns out that it was actually Nikola’s ‘father’ or something like that and I swear to you, the statue changed.”

“I’m sure you’re just getting the heebie jeebies, dude. You’ll be fine. Spectacular lookout job, by the way.”

None of them noticed that all of the heads on the wax statues had turned towards them as they continued on to the next room. During the unblocking of the 5th camera, Jon still felt uneasy playing lookout, so he asked Martin to come with him. Tim and Sasha had the routine down by now, and were pretty damn efficient, although the expletives still remained. They had just devolved into Tim on Sasha’s shoulders the entire time, which made it much easier to get through rooms.

“Martin, I’m not kidding. The statue changed.” Jon knew that he sounded crazy but somehow he knew that Martin might believe him.  
“Alright, so what? Maybe it’s just some cool new tech or something.”

“Cool new tech? This place looks older than my goddamn grandmother.” Jon tried to lower his voice, really, he did, but he heard something rustle and glanced behind him. Nothing but statues. This place is really weird. I think we’ve been here too long, we should rest and come back.”

“That is not going to work, we’re so close already. Tim and Sasha would be pissed. Honestly, it won’t take too much longer. Just wait it out.’

“Fine. Just hear me out.” He whispered directly in Martin’s ear. “Were all of the statues facing Tim and Sasha when we came in?”

“What are you…” Martin trailed off. It was true, every single one of the heads was turned towards the duo, and Martin felt the creeping of so many lifeless eyes up his back. “They are watching us too, let’s just get out of here.”

“They aren’t watching us, it’s just tech.” Martin quickly pulled out his phone. 

M: listen, we need to be careful. i know they’re watching us but hopefully itll throw them off the trail if we play dumb

J: Alright, fine, make sure that you can get the hatchet out quickly, though. I have a knife but I doubt that that will be all that useful against these things.

J: Don’t tell Tim and Sasha, we need to keep them safe

M: agreed

And so they ventured on, further into the dusty rooms. Tim and Sasha chattered together, but Martin and Jon were silent, observing from behind. Flickers of movement in the periphery started getting less subtle and more “they could literally see the figures moving”.

Jon held his grip on his knife, and Martin had stuck the hatchet into his belt. It was actually very well hidden by his jumper.

The 6th camera went down, and some of the flickers started ceasing. Jon wanted to feel relieved, but something in his gut told him that it was not good. He was right. The 7th camera was the easiest of all, not even that high off the ground, so Sasha pulled off the glob of wax with a triumphant smile. “Thank god that’s over.”

“Alright, let’s go. Um, Tim, are you...alright?” Tim was standing stock still, staring at a Marilyn Monroe statue. He had tears in his eyes. “Yes, she’s hot, but I don’t think that it’s tear...worthy” Sasha trailed off as Tim moved closer. And then, he made a mistake. “Danny?” He reached up to touch it’s cheek, and then it moved, grabbing his wrist. He screamed, and Martin rushed forward, slicing through the wax with the hatchet like it was butter. The creature shook it’s head and then turned it back around, stepping off the podium and starting to grab Tim again.

“Run, come on, come on, we have to go, god dammit.” Jon urged the others on, but somehow, dodging through the maze of twisted, moving, bodies, he got separated. He found his way to a wall and started to move forward, but it ended in a corner and when he turned around he was trapped, and the faces started to pop out, those of his childhood tormentors, his grandmother, and for a second, even Georgie. They started moving closer. They were whispering, telling him things that he didn’t even say to himself, reminding him of his past mistakes, grabbing him with their waxy hands and pulling at his clothing.

He sat there, surrounded, heaving sobs until he felt a hand that was distinctly Not wax on his arm.

“Get up, you arse. We need to leave.” Sasha pulled him up, then pulled him up further, heaving him onto her back in a piggy back ride, and starting to sprint. He heard Martin yell and looked back to see him sink that hatchet blade into the chest of what was formerly his grandmother. He winced, then turned forward. Sasha was terribly agile, terrifyingly so, actually, she dodged multiple statues and body slammed right through others. Jon looked to the left, and saw...was that another Sasha beside them?

“Jon, that isn’t me, get off of her. She’s wax.” He looked down at the Sasha below him, looking for any signs of falsehood, but she screamed ‘sonder’ at the top of her lungs. The not-sasha beside them’s face started melting. “You won’t get rid of me that easily.”

So Jon did the only logical thing that he could think of. He grabbed the knife in his belt, reached over, and sliced off the not-sasha’s face. Tim caught up with them soon after, and Martin was further behind, as he had to get the hatchet out of the thing’s chest, but soon they were finally in the front entrance.

Jon swore he heard Nikola laughing, but all he saw behind the front desk as they left was a faceless mannequin, with the name tag now bloody and broken. They didn’t stop until they were back in the bookshop, and Tim collapsed on one of the couches, a look of utter despair on his face. Sasha put down Jon, and flopped on the loveseat, sticking her legs over the end.

“He was there.” Tim said, despairingly.

“Whoever it was, that was not him. The only things in that place were the ones that tried to kill us.” Sasha looked a Tim like he had gone mad, but they had just escaped a fucking wax hell, give him a break.

“I left him behind.” Tim’s face crumpled and tears started pouring down his face. Jon was still shaken but made his way over. “I-” he cleared the tears out of his throat. “I know what you mean. I saw...my grandmother. It really looked like her, but I swear to you that it wasn’t. Danny is gone, and I know it hurts but that was. not. him.” He followed his instincts and tentatively hugged Tim, but didn’t expect the reaction he got, which was Tim leaning into him, shaking. Unknowingly, he found himself rubbing circles on the other’s back, and quietly whispering “I know, it’s ok.”  
“I recognized her laugh. She took him. I know she did.” tim sniffed. ‘I need to go back there, I’m gonna-” he started crying again.

“How did it-oh no.” Georgie took in the situation and grabbed Melanie. “We’re going to...get drinks for you guys.”

Jon was furious. He turned on the typewriter. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us about those things?”

{listen, i’m being completely honest here, i never saw any of those things move. i swear}

“If you had any idea you better fess up before I fucking murder you again.”

{please dont. I swear, i didnt know i wouldnt have sent you there it hurt so much please not again}

Jon sighed. “Alright, I’m sorry Gerry. I don’t mean it, I’m just mad about Tim, and the thing, and I really need a coffee or something.” He didn’t notice that Martin had slipped off, probably hyperventilating a little from the sight of him soothing? Soothing. Tim. Martin came back. “Would tea do?” 

“Um..yes, thank you, Martin. And also thank you for saving me. I don’t know what I would have done.”

“It’s nothing.” The tea was warm against Jon’s hands, and he laughed as something suddenly occurred to him. “We actually had to use the damn code word…”

Martin smiled softly. “Good thing we had it, though. To be honest, I probably would have just smashed the shit out of the closest one, and panicked. I doubt we could have even gotten a chance to have a proper standoff.”

“Conflict resolution, it would have worked either way…”

Shasha sat up and interrupted. “So, first of all, let’s take stock of what exactly happened.”

“Alright, we were almost murdered by an army of things that cannot move. Can we go home now? I want to get out of here.” Tim was still slumped on the couch, his breathing uneven.

“But first, sugar!” Georgie said brightly. “I do warn you, Tim, It may be too sweet, even for you.” She handed over a lurid blue drink and Tim sighed, grabbing it and taking a swig.

“Oh, shit, this is actually good. What...what is it?”

“Nothing you need to know about.” She winked, and then behind Tim’s back held up a simple packet of sugar free sour blue kool aid. “Tim, your teeth are already blue,” Sasha sighed. “You’re gonna be up all night.”

“Also, you can’t cry while drinking water. Used to use it as a babysitter for little kids.”

“So, I think I know how the people were murdered. Also, was that just me or was the thing behind the counter a mannequin?” 

“Yes, it was a mannequin, but it tried to kill us. Honestly, I kind of side with Tim here. I am all done with evil shit in this mall for today, I just want to hopefully have a night of dreamless sleep. Evil statues, etc. we won’t go back in there again, but we did get all cameras unblocked.” Martin added.

“Oh, thank god,” Tim said sarcastically. “Not like I was going to want to go back or something.”

“You know what? I want to sleep on this. I’m done, we already all know what happened. Let’s just hope that it doesn’t come after us, I don’t think it noticed us unblocking the cameras.” Sasha said. “I need some muscle ache stuff for my shoulders, you bony ass.”

Tim laughed, and sprayed a fine blue mist all over his shirt, which made Sasha and Martin collapse, and Jon allowed himself a small chuckle. Tim was bemoaning the loss of his favorite shirt, though he supposed the wax would probably be harder to get out. So, after Tim finished his kool aid, and Jon finished his tea, he got on the tube and went home. His phone buzzed.

T: hey, thank you. i still really miss him, y’know and you really helped.

J: Honestly, it’s nothing. I know how it feels.

T: well, you actually made me feel better, you prickly arse. thank you. Also, you text like my mother.

He elected to ignore the last message, and walked into his flat, then looked disgustedly at the tea bags. Not now, creepy tea bags, not now. He just wanted to sleep. His adrenaline rush in the museum had left him feeling burned out and exhausted, and he welcomed the escape of sleep with open arms. Thankfully, he didn’t dream, because if he had, it probably wouldn’t have been pleasant. 

On the floor in his kitchen was a tea bag, and the label read “your mind and your will are your own...probably. take responsibility today!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly: I was not planning to write a chapter this week. Secondly: it was never intended to be this long, but sprouted into this wretched thing. One last thing, comments, kudos, and shares are greatly appreciated, and help me keep the spark of this story alive, so if you enjoy, consider showing it to others! Also, thinking of writing bonus content for milestones? eg 500, 1000 hits and so forth?
> 
> find me at my tumblr, crazylittlethingcalledspite


	6. Stonks; or Mannequins Part 2, Electric Boogaloo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crop top sends Martin into gay cardiac arrest, Sasha has a tracking chip in Tim, and Michael ends up being a deus ex machina of sorts.
> 
> come yell with me abt podcasts at @/crazylittlethingcalledspite on tumblr
> 
> me: *says this chapter won’t be long*
> 
> also me: *writes 4,500 words like a boss*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gerry is a bastard in {these brackets}

Maybe Jon didn’t dream the first time that he fell asleep, but he certainly did the second, waking up at 2 am and then rolling over and almost immediately nodding off again. Unfortunately, as falling back to sleep is wont to do, it was not restful or particularly enriching. He woke up in a panic to see that it was 4 am now, and the thoughts of that mannequin haunted his head. He could almost feel the coolness radiating off the plastic as the figure stretched behind him, laughing sharply as it reached out to grab him. But when he whirled around, there was nothing there. Nothing but his shadow. Frantically, he looked all around, but there was no trace of anything.

He sighed, laid down, and pulled the blanket over his head, making sure to leave room for his nose. Something about suffocating in stale air kind of freaked him out, but eventually he was able to drift back off, waking up at 6 am, and deciding to throw the towel in and just drag himself out of bed. His morning routine was simple, including, but not limited to: washing his face, brushing his teeth, figuring out what to wear, and scowling at anyone who tried to talk to him. 

Although one of his neighbors almost blindsided him, Jon managed to make it out of the door before she could ask him anything. On the tube, he sat and scrolled through the groupchat, trying to figure out what the fresh hell Tim’s memes were. Admittedly, he wasn’t all that up to date on technology, but these didn’t even make sense. Maybe it was just exhaustion messing with him, but “stonks” had a lot more of a sinister connotation after the events of the previous day.

What did it even mean? Why stonks? What was the point of it even existing? There was no practical use for stonks and the mannequin's smooth face taunted him on the blue background. He almost hurled his phone onto the ground but then remembered: if he broke his good old iphone 6s he’d have to get one that a) would not fit in his hands and b) would also be too technologically advanced for him. As he looked around, he must have been muttering to himself, because he was getting some very...odd looks.

He sighed as he got off, and trudged toward the mall. Where were they going today, anyway? If it was anything like that damn wax museum, he was going to riot, and there was no way Tim would go. No, that was nonsense. There was only one wax museum. Checking his pocket, he pulled out the teabag, and sent a picture to the chat.

J: Do yours all match up?

M: yea i have the same actually

S: lmao you text like a grandma how old are you anyways

J: I’m 30

S: ur kidding

J: No??

M: we’re going to need to interrogate you abt this

J: Please don’t, also, what is “stonks”?

M: (youtubeattch.3) “David Bowie Says Meme School” jon we’re going to need to send you to meme school

S: asjdfksaji

Jon didn’t even know how to pronounce that last message. He made a mental note to ask about it later, Georgie would probably know what it meant, but...right. Gerry. No one was safe, and he dreaded having to ask Martin. Why was he so concerned with being cool all of a sudden? Nope, not time for that. Tea first. Scrolling through one last time, he realized that Tim hadn’t texted at all since yesterday.

He shrugged it off, yesterday had been hard, and to be honest, he would have slept in too. If he could, that was. As he walked into the mall, though, he happened to glance down at himself. Fuck. He had been in a haze before his coffee, and had apparently gone on autopilot, pulling out the worst thing he possibly could: a goddamn crop top. He at least had a flannel over it, which was why he had apparently not noticed the 3 inches of skin showing. 

To be honest, the people staring wasn’t too bad, he’d be intrigued too if the stuffy academic showed up in a shredded crop top. Georgie full on applauded when he walked in to stick his things under the counter, and he blushed.

“Shut up. I went on autopilot.”

“This is appreciative applause. Dressing to...impress a certain someone?”

“I have absolutely no id-wait. What did you say?”

“Oh, you know what I said. I saw you looking at him.” 

“Honestly Georgie, I know what you mean, but it wasn’t intentional. I didn’t even register this until I walked in, I was so tired.” Goergie stared at him critically, and then nodded.

“Your eyebags are a good defense attorney here, results come back not guilty.”

“Oh, good, thank you for clearing me. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I have to re-hang the twilight poster.”

“As you wish, have fun today ;3”

“How in the world did you manage to speak an emoticon?”

“;3”

“Alright then.” Jon hauled the ladder across the shop, and hung the poster, nearly breaking his neck when he looked at the typewriter, which was speeding along.

{holy shit man youre gonna kill martin with that hes gonna go into gay cardiac arrest}

“Could you shut UP?”

{mmm yummy id tap that}

“Please, for the love of god, stop.”

He got an annoyed glance from a customer, who moved on to the next section, muttering about service. Jon winced. 

“This is why we can’t have nice things, Gerry.”

{at least i know what a meme is jon}

Jon flipped off the typewriter, and then put away the ladder, walking across the way to Biin, and wrapping his flannel tighter around him in the chilly air conditioning. Why it was always so cold, he had no idea, but it was miserable in this mall, always. Too hot in winter, too cold in summer.

Biin was warm, but not too warm, so he gave up any semblance of dignity, and let the flannel fall to the side, fidgeting with the hem as he reached into his pocket and grabbed the tea bag.

“Good morning!” Sasha came out of the back room, as she always did, and gasped. “Oh my god.” Her mouth was hanging open as she stared. “Sir, you are rocking that.”

“Er-thank you. Can I-can I get my tea now?”

“Uh, yeah, one second. Lemme get Martin, and a photo for Tim. Pose, dahling.”

Jon sighed, and ‘posed’. 

“Perfect! Now, about that tea. Martin, Martin!! You gotta come see this.”

“I’m coming, I’m com-oh my god.” Jon would have described Martin as adorably rumpled, judging by his clothing.

“Yeah, I kinda zoned this morning.” Martin was steadily turning redder, and Jon felt kind of bad? Like maybe he was embarrassing himself? Don’t overthink it, you’re fine, but he still pulled his flannel tighter around him, curling in on himself.

“No, don’t do that. Um-I think it looks nice?” Jon smiled, a warm, genuine one. “Thank you, Martin.” Martin was melting. How in the world did 3 inches of skin absolutely murder him? His hands were shaking as he grabbed the teabag, and Jon was starting to look concerned.

“Are you ok?”

“Fine! I’m...fine.” His voice was too loud and he winced. Jon looked taken aback. “Sorry.”

Martin had been having a hell of a day, to be honest. The mannequins hadn’t honestly bothered him, but when he saw Jon in the corner, tears rolling down his cheeks, he almost cracked. Jon had just looked so helpless, and Martin might have even sacrificed himself to make sure that he was safe. So, he sunk the hatchet into one of the figures’ chests and hauled Jon up, shoving him towards Sasha. When he thought back, he could still feel the what of Jon’s flushed skin on his own.

He contemplated texting Jon that night, making sure that he was ok, but as soon as he laid down, he passed out and his dreams were haunted by the look of terror on Jon’s face, and what might have happened if Martin hadn’t made it on time.

To say the least, his sleep wasn’t restful, and so when he figured out that his alarm had been going off for 30 minutes, he scrambled to find something presentable, had tossed on some shoes and made it out the door. Then, he burned himself on the kettle even though he had made tea thousands of times, and dropped his phone, shattering his already cracked screen protector. Oh well. After helping Sasha tidy up a little bit, he felt a little bit more composed, stacking bags of beans in the back room until he heard her call him. Anyways, Jon looked adorable, etc. etc.

The break room was noticeably missing one person.

“Where’s Tim?”

“I’m not sure, to be honest,” Sasha replied. “I feel like he would have texted me, but nothing is showing up. Also, he turned off snap maps so I can’t really just stalk him. I suppose I could always use the computer chip I put in him.”

“The what now?” Jon and Martin cried in unison.

“Chip. Computer chip. Like what you put in dogs, y’know?”

“Uh, no? Isn’t that highly illegal?”

“No, they put it in when I got him his rabies shots.”

Jon looked closer. A hint of a smile was showing on Sasha’s face. Then her facade cracked and she was shaking on the floor. “Oh my god, you guys actually believed me. I almost had you.”

Little did they know that she actually had put one on him. Tim had absolutely no sense of direction, and when he was absolutely coathangered it was just more useful to make sure he didn’t fall into a river or something. No way she was letting the other two know, though.

So, the question remained, where was Tim? She discreetly checked the chip, but something was glitching out, apparently he was...underground? Or in the sky? Or, now, he was in Scotland? Sasha smacked the phone against the heel of her hand, but his location was still glitching and she put it away with a sigh. 

“Well, I suppose it’s time for cameras. There actually aren’t many, just 3, but I think it requires us to be split up. Good thing there are three of us, but I still wish Tim was here. Anyways, how do you two feel about timeshares?”

“Those things? Not good. I’m too gullible for that.”

“Easy enough to divide it up, then. Martin, you’re going to take the waiting room camera, you should be tall enough to reach it. Jon, you and I will divide up the other two, in the rooms. Please for the love of god, do not buy a timeshare.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

“You’ll also be able to reach this one, so no problem there.”

“Gee, thanks mom.”

Sasha tweaked his nose. “No problem. Now, Shall, we get on with it?”

“Yes, I suppose. My only question is how I’m going to get them out of the room.”

“Simple, ask for an application form, like you wanna work there. They’ll have to leave, they don’t normally have those, so you'll get just enough time to take off whatever they have covering the cameras.”

“Someone walks in to you standing on a desk, messing with the camera.”

Sasha giggled. “That would be absolutely hilarious. Uncover the camera so I can see the footage if it happens”

Jon frowned. “No need for Gerry, I don’t think. This place basically advertises itself as a scam.”

“That it does, my friend.”

The faded sign advertised “Fielding Financial” but the windows were dusty and the plain grey walls screamed no budget. There were also lots of cobwebs, almost an absurd amount, like halloween decorations left up well past their date. Martin stared at them and thought that perhaps this place was a firm believer in “it’s always spooky season.” Sasha interrupted his thoughts.

“I’ll go in first, then Jon, 5 minutes later, and Martin last. My records show that there are only 2 people here, so you should have no trouble getting the camera, Martin.”

Jon gave a thumbs up, and then sat with Martin on a bench near the park that was now at the center of the mall. 

“So, how have you been feeling?” Martin blurted out.

“Fine, I guess. I’m not sure about Tim, though. He was really rattled. Do you know what that was all about?”

“I do. Give me a second.” Martin’s fingers flew over the keyboard of his phone as he stared into the distance, looking down to double check before searching.

“How in the hell did you do that?”

Martin wiggled his fingers. “Spooky esp. Here, read this.”

“Hey, I’ve seen this, Georgie and Melanie have it...framed...Stoker. Danny. How did they not notice this?”

“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure.” Martin winced. “That’s kind of why he was so cagey about the place, although it was a while ago.”

“Speaking of Tim, whaddya think happened to him? More importantly, do you think Sasha actually ‘chipped’ him?”

“I really don’t want to say this, but I’ve known Sasha long enough that it was actually possible. I do know, however, that she wouldn’t do it unless she got Tim’s permission. The man has been known to be a little...unsafe at times.”

“Wow, what a relief.” Jon said sarcastically. “Isn’t that a little bit of a privacy invasion?”

“Not...technically.” Martin grimaced.

“If you have to say that it isn’t technically an invasion of privacy, you might need to rethink your life choices.” Jon managed to say this with a straight face (probably the only straight thing abt him tbh) and then burst into laughter. 

“Oh, speaking of which, what is ‘stonks’? This is an actual, serious question.”

“Honestly?”

“Yes…?”

Martin started laughing again, and Jon shoved him. “Shut up, it’s so confusing.”

“Stonks.”

Martin’s smile was infectious, and when Jon left the bench in order to carry on with their mission, he had one too. He stared at his reflection in the dusty glass, thinking that maybe this could be a beginning. Or something.

// 

The man knew where he was. He knew that he knew, but the information was locked up somewhere in his stupid skill and he couldn’t think. The noise was all too loud, a high piping melody that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. He knew that he had to go to the mall, they had things to do. What even was a mall? Funny word. He giggled. Mall. 

“Mall.”

Like magic, a structure, a building, perhaps, appeared in front of him. Something told him that it wasn’t the ‘mall that he was looking for, but he walked forward anyways. Inside, it was empty, the lights off and his footsteps echoing around and he took in the arched ceilings. Maybe it was instinct, but he automatically found himself walking a route he swore that he had walked a hundred times before. His feet lead him towards a small shop, with a light up sign long dead that read “Biin”. 

The counters were shiny, and he rang the bell.

Someone came out from the back room. 

“Hello there!” They said cheerfully. “My name is Sasha!”

“Are you...sure?”

“Of course, silly. Who else would I be?”

“I’m not sure, really. Do you know who I am?”

“Of course! I put you here, you goof. But first, you should try out some of what we sell here!” Sasha reached behind the counter and pulled out a cookie tray. It was covered in what looked like tortillas, but he soon recognized it as...faces. Identities. He tried to recoil in horror but was drawn to them. He didn’t know who he was, maybe he could just...try one on. See how it felt, with a name again. He reached out, the skin calling to him, but snapped out of it when something hit him in the side of the head.

It was a name tag. The face on it was not recognizable but tracing his fingers around his features he found that it matched his own. The man in the photo wore a hawaiian shirt and sunglasses, shooting finger guns at someone off the camera. He stared down at the dirty hawaiian shirt he had on. Tim. So he put on the (his?) name tag and turned to Sasha. 

“Where is Sasha?”

“I am Sasha.” It’s voice was harder now, and Tim thought he saw the face slipping.

“Where. Is. Sasha. She needs my help.”

It’s face was sagging, voice cracking as the facade fell and the face flopped to counter. It’s arms began to lengthen, and it started pulling itself over the counter. “You don’t want to know what I did to her. How shall I start? Where I peeled off her face? Where I ripped her body to pieces? Where I-’’

“Shut. Up.”

“I don’t much like the idea of that. I’d rather kill you instead.”

Tim turned and ran as it crawled along the ceiling like some kind of horrible marionette come to life. When he left the ‘mall’ it dissolved behind him. The city twisted and turned, seemingly filled with iterations of the mannequin, but none of them ever reached him. Every single corner just led him to the same street, filled with people he thought he knew but their faces peeled off like falling snow. Finally, he chanced to open a door. It led into a room and although the figures soon crowded the window, he bolted the door, and sat, trying to catch his breath. He sat there for a few minutes, listening to the banging on the door and creak of the glass, and starting to remember. The real Sasha. Martin. Jon (bastard) and Danny. 

But then, he heard a staticky creak, and a voice interrupted his recollection. “Hello there. You look like you need a door.”

“Back the fuck up, dude.”

The man held out a reassuring hand. “Listen, I know you’re worried I’m one of them, and perhaps we come from the same beginning, but I promise you that I currently mean you no harm. You know me, I’m Michael.”

The name certainly meant something to Tim. “Can you get me out of here?”

“Yes.”

Tim shakily laughed. “Then I suppose I have no other choice. He stood up, took Michael’s hand, and stepped through the door, which then closed and disappeared with a pop. The mannequins managed to finally bust the door down, but howled when they realized their prey was gone.

// 

Jon sat, staring blankly and pretending to nod along as the dark skinned lady in front of him continued talking. He had been sitting there for hours it felt like. He knew there was something that he had to do. She continued on, explaining how many owners they had per property and how long they were out for and ugh...he was zoning out, and he was aware of it, so now he was hyperfocused on every word she said. They didn’t make any sense though, her lips just moving. But he felt a tug. 

“So, Jon are you ready to buy?”

He didn’t recall giving her his name. He supposed that he had, though. How else would she know it? Right, he was supposed to sign. His hand reached out and grabbed the pen, and then while absentmindedly looking around the office, he saw the cobwebs. So many. He shuddered at the thought of spiders scuttling around in shadows, crawling up his back. That was enough to break the spell over him, though, and he started coughing. 

“Could-could you get me an application form? To work here, I mean. I think I’d fit in just fine.”

Annabelle’s eyes glinted. “Of course.”

As soon as she left, Jon leapt up onto the desk, scrambling to pull the web off, balling it up and putting it in his pocket, and then flipping off the camera for Douchard. He couldn’t believe that he just used Timm’s bogus name. Ugh. 

He sat back down and Annabelle walked back into the room. “I have your form, so I assume that you won’t be signing up for anything else today.” Jon stood up, and after thanking her walked out, directly into the bookshop.

He calmly sat down, ignoring Martin, who was confusedly staring at him over a volume of Keats. He’d have to critique Martin’s taste later, there were more...pressing things on his mind right now. “Georgie,” he called. “Could you please come here?”

“Yeah, whaddya need?”

“There is a spider web in my pocket. I estimate that you have exactly 30 seconds until I start screaming.”

“Oh, shit, you really gotta spring that on me?” Georgie hurried across the room, and started to dig in his pocket. “Dang, dude, why are your pockets so small?”

“Sue me if womens pants are cuter.”

“True enough.”

“You’ve got about 5 seconds.”

“Alright, I’ve got it!!” Georgie triumphantly held up a small ball of web. “Dare I ask why you had this in your pocket?”

“I panicked. Only option.”

Martin chimed in. “What just happened?”

“Friendship.” They said in unison. “Also, Jon had a debilitating fear of spiders and all spider-related paraphernalia.”

“Oh. Well, I made tea, if that helps.”

Jon gratefully accepted the mug. “Actually, that would. Any sign of Tim?” Martin sighed. “Not yet, I’m sorry. I don’t know where he’d be.”

//

Tim was currently wandering through the maze of shelves behind that staticky yellow door. “Do you know what that place was?”

“To be honest, I’ve never seen that happen before. Usually the figures keep to themselves, but I’d say that you were a...special interest of sorts.” Michael paused. “Oh, right, we should probably start heading towards - where did you want to go again?”

“Kind of blur, but I think I need to get to Sasha. Super tall?”

“Ah, yes. Very resourceful, finding her way out of here.”

“You never did explain that.” 

“Sometimes, these corridors have a habit of rearranging, shall we say?”

“So they’re like that spooky maze in Harry Potter or whatever.”

“Sure. Sasha should be right up here.” Michael motioned to a yellow door intersecting the shelves. It should not have been possible for a door to be there, but hey, as long as Tim got out of all of this weird shit, he was fine. He turned to Michael. “Thank you. I really needed to get out of there.”

“All in a day’s work.” Michael tipped a hat that TIm was sure was not there a second ago, and opened the door.

//

Sasha was trapped, though not in the fake looking webs like so many stupid flies. Silly flies, how can you get stuck in a fake web? They weren’t even sticky. She turned her attention towards the dingy desk, where Raymond was smiling at her, but the cobwebs that had covered the camera were burning a hole in her pocket. When Michael opened the door, he cringed. “You know, Tim, you should probably grab her before she makes a very bad decision.”

“You’re really going to spring that on me?”

Ramond was staring at the door, but his eyes...there almost seemed to be too many. Tim ignored it as a sign of fatigue, and grabbed the entire chair, dragging Sasha through the door. Raymond sighed. Every time, that nuisance Michael had to interrupt his deals. Oh well. She’d be back. Eventually. Michael stuck his tongue out and made a rude noise, and then slammed the door.

“Sasha...Sasha.” Tim waved his hand back and forth in front of her face, but she wasn’t moving. “Why isn’t she responding?”

“I imagine that the deal is still on. Give me a second, stay by the chair.” Michael swiftly disappeared into shelves, and then reappeared on the other side of the chair with a mug of tea. It was apparently piping hot.

“What.”

“This is my premium anti-spook (registered trademark) tea. Orange spice, very good.” Michael explained. 

“Alright, so uhh, are we gonna spoon feed her or something?”

“No, I find that this -” here he threw the cup of tea onto Sasha “- always works much quicker.”

“You’re going to burn her, you goddamn idiot!”

“No, I’m not. Hello Sasha, welcome back to the land of the self aware.”

“Hello Michael. Thank you for that.” Sasha checked her clothes, and they were, unsurprisingly at this point, dry. “But hey, we have a new chair now!!”

“Oh boy,” said Tim dryly. “A new chair.”

Michael led them through the maze, and then found ‘the right door’, which led directly into the bookshop. “Thank you, Michael,” Tim and Sasha droned in unison, and then burst into giggles. “We’ll be back, you want some pastries or something as a thank you?”

“Scones. Raspberry almond, if you have them.”

“Aye aye captain,” Tim saluted, and then, taking Sasha’s arm, stepped through the door and pulled the chair behind him. He crossed his legs faux-primly. “So, what did I miss? Wait - Jon...is that a crop top?” He whistled. “Good look on you, bossman.”

Jon was sprawled out of the sofa, he hated sitting properly but all formality was out the window now that he had the stupid shirt on. “I almost bought a timeshare, and yes, it is a crop top. I know, I look ungodly sexy.”

Tim choked. “Did anyone else hear that?”

Georgie sighed. “He can be so insufferable sometimes.” Jon did look very smug.

“To be honest, it was a pretty normal day, other than the timeshare thing. What about you man, Sasha’s tracking chip couldn’t even find you.”

Tim turned on Sasha. “You told them?”

“I didn’t, but I guess they figured it out?”

“Honestly, it wasn’t that hard.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Sash,” Martin smiled.

“Anyways, back to what happened to me.” Tim sighed. “So, I think that mannequin messed with me more, like I was a half-eaten meal. I was running, and I didn’t know who I was, but Michael gave me a door, and I grabbed Sash and this awesome chair and here I am.”

Jon noticed how Tim glossed over the whole thing, but didn’t mention it. “Alright, my head hurts, but it isn’t actually that late. Do we have anything else to do?”

“I mean, we could always bake those scones and go hang out with Michael.”

“I’m still kind of mad, but I guess we owe him. Shall we?”

{can i come i have a special recipe it involves 10 grams of pepper}

“We are not putting pepper in the scones.” Tim said. He glared at the typewriter. He saved me and who else would give you a plus comedy material if I was dead?”

{damn. have fun then im gonna go bother melanie.}

“Don’t you dare, Gerry.” called Georgie, heading further into the shop.

All things considered, the day had been a very good one, Jon thought. His sleep that night was peaceful and mannequin free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are ❤️👄❤️


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